


Take It Easy (You're Still Young, That's Your Fault)

by QueenHarleyQuinn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anxiety, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Demisexuality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introversion, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, RK900 Has Anxiety, Roommates, Shyness, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, Upgraded Connor | RK900-centric, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-01-20 17:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenHarleyQuinn/pseuds/QueenHarleyQuinn
Summary: Once Arc moves the top box a face is revealed. A boy with messy hair and a scar across his nose and a scowl. “You Richard?”Arc’s jaw tenses as Connor laughs. “I go by Arc - but, legally, yes.”“Whatever.” He drops his box by the unmade bed. “Gavin.” He says before disappearing out the door again.ORA very self indulgent "omg they were roommates" AU ft: Arc being a lonely, anxious boy navigating his first year of university, new friendships, family drama and his very grumpy roommate, Gavin Reed.





	1. Chapter 1

When Arc pushes his door open for the first time, it’s uneventful aside from the squeak of old hinges needing grease. With a box under his arm and bookbag slung across his body, he shoulders the door open all the way and is hit with the musty smell of a dorm room untouched for one summer.

Hank and Connor are close behind him with one suitcase and one other box. Arc props the door open for them as they enter.

“Which side?” Hank asks before setting the box anywhere.

It’s not a huge room, obviously. Maybe twelve by fifteen feet. It’s symmetrical, with one side mirroring the other except for the bathroom and closet adjunct on the right side near the door. Unbunked, twin XL beds tucked into their own corners of the far back wall by the windows. Short dressers pushed at the ends of the beds. Then a few feet later, the desks and chairs sit nearest to the door.

“Doesn’t matter.” Arc shrugs because it doesn’t, each side is the same. Hank raises his eyebrows but says nothing so Arc quickly decides, “Left.”

Connor flicks on the lights which activate with a harsh buzz. Dustmotes drift, slow and lazy. “You should air this place out.” Connor says, like he’s unimpressed by the place. But Arc sees how Connor takes in every inch of his brother’s new, temporary residence. Connor abandons the suitcase by Arc’s new bed and immediately darts to the window to watch the students milling with their parents and new roommates. His shoulders slump, a little wistful as any Junior in High School would be.

Arc tries very hard not to find it both sad and endearing. 

Hank turns to Arc, “Start settling in, we’ll bring up the rest.”

Arc nods as Hank walks away. When Connor passes Arc taps the back of his knee with his boot, causing his brother to buckle and stumble a step. Connor turns and smacks his brother on the arm, laughing. Arc, being taller and older, has an advantage on ruffling Connor’s hair.

“C’mon boys, enough fooling around! I’m not carrying everything by myself.” Hank calls out from the hallway because he  _ knows _ his kids.

Before Connor runs off he asks, “Are you excited?”

The  _ hmm _ and shrug Arc gives is noncommittal. 

Connor shakes his head, huffing a laugh, “It’s okay to be excited.”

Arc stares at the empty room as Connor leaves. As the noises around him build - the squeaking doors, the buzzing lights, the babbling freshmen - so does the dread in Arc’s gut.

 

“You’d think your roommate would show up by now.” Hank says, two hours and one trip to Target later.

Arc isn’t a decorative person but he has style and taste. His sheets are a crisp navy blue and his bedding a soft grey. They get him a tall bookshelf to go beside his desk because if he has anything, he has books. Lots of books. Classics, Fantasy, sci-fi, historical fiction, graphic novels, biographical, non-fiction - the list goes on.

His desk is organized just how he likes it, with his notebooks and pens and laptop arranged neatly. Sticky Notes and highlighters and white out stocked in the desk drawer. It’s about as close to knick-knacks as Arc gets.

“I can’t believe you let the university pick your roommate.” Connor says, twisting back and forth in the wheelie desk chair. 

“Statistically, most people don’t make friends with their freshman year roommates anyway. It’s not like the movies, Connor.” Arc says, grabbing the back of the chair, “Pick up your legs.”

Connor does so and Arc spins him around once and  _ fast _ as Connor holds onto the arms for dear life. Hank rolls his eyes at them but he also chuckles. 

“Maybe your roommate dropped already and you get to have the room to yourself.” Connor says, still spinning from Arc’s force. “Maybe I can move in.”

Arc opens his mouth to say how that would never happen when the door pushes open - less of a squeak this time thanks to Hank and some WD-40.

They all turn to watch a stack of boxes nearly tumble in, whoever is carrying them hidden by the tower. Hank Anderson didn’t raise his boys to be rude, so at the same time Connor and Arc rush forward to grab a box.

Once Arc moves the top box a face is revealed. A boy with messy hair and a scar across his nose and a scowl. “You Richard?”

Arc’s jaw tenses as Connor laughs. “I go by Arc - but, legally, yes.”

“Whatever.” He drops his box by the unmade bed. “Gavin.” He says before disappearing out the door again.

Hank stands there waiting for a parent or, something resembling a parent, to appear, introduce themselves and promise that their son isn’t a total asshole all the time. But that never happens.

Gavin stumbles in once again, another stack of boxes. Arc and Connor grab the top two again but he protests, “Hands off, I got it.”

They back off and watch him dump them at the foot of the bed once more.

“Most people wait until their roommate shows up before picking a side.” Gavin says as he pulls out sheets from a crumpled and hastily taped box.

Arc’s face burns but he fires back, “Most people move in on time.”

“Arc.” Hank says, looking his eldest in the eyes before turning to the scrawny kid who was struggling to make the bed. Each time he gets one corner tucked the other pops up. “You have a parent or guardian or...something?”

“Nope. Just me.” Gavin says, continuing with his task. He doesn’t even bother to turn around and face Hank.

Connor stares at Arc, half self-satisfied because he was  _ right, you _ should  _ never  _ let the university assign roommates, and half horrified.

“Great.” Hank says gruffly. He turns to his boys, “You two hungry?”

Arc nods despite having no appetite at all. They leave without saying goodbye and if the door slams behind them then they all agree it’s an accident.

 

They sit outside of a small pizza shop within walking distance of campus. As afternoon rolls into evening Arc, Connor and Hank split a large pizza - half meat lovers half vegetarian because Connor is trying to ease Hank into healthy eating. Freshmen with lanyards around their necks gather in a flock and carry-out multiple boxes to take back to their residence halls.

“Your roommate’s a piece of work.” Hank says as he takes a bite.

Connor smirks, “I told you it was a bad idea to get an assigned roommate.”

Arc elbows him and Connor elbows back.

With nostrils flared Arc looks down at his half eaten slice like it’s to blame for his roommate situation. Connor’s shit eating smirk dissipates as Arc continues to glare at his food. The older Anderson boy doesn’t handle being wrong very well.

He’s also not handling living with a stranger very well.

Arc and Connor have lived with Hank for the past twelve years. They had met a few times before Hank adopted them but Arc doesn’t remember that part much. What he does remember is that the first day at Hank’s house was terrifying. Six year old Arc - Richard back then - had acted bravely as he stood in front of four year old Connor, holding his hand, and absolutely never crying. Hank had stooped down to one knee, rested his big hand on Arc’s small, boney shoulder and told him that he was doing a great job protecting his brother, but that it was Hank’s turn now to protect both of them and that he’d never let them down.

Hank has been true to his word.

Before that he doesn’t remember ever having another home. And to think this place, university, was supposed to be his new home was...laughable.

Hank patted his eldest on the shoulder, “Could be first day nerves. The kid might settle down. Can’t be easy moving in by yourself.”

Arc nods but says nothing. His stomach hurts and it’s not from the greasy pizza.

 

He hugs them each once, flicks Connor on the nose and messes up his hair again, and then they’re gone. Packed away in the car and peeling out of the parking lot. Arc turns away because he doesn’t want to watch them go. His chest feels tight.

Students act like it’s still summer, like they don’t all have classes tomorrow. It’s warm and the sun hasn’t quite set and there’s energy everywhere. Girls smile at him, and some guys do too, and all he can do is nod at them politely. He’s tired and just wants to reread his syllabus until he falls asleep.

He unlocks the door and is relieved to see Gavin isn’t there. His side of the room was everything that Arc’s side wasn’t; mismatched bedding, movie posters pinned to the walls, clothes haphazardly dumped into draws and left in boxes. At least, Arc thought as he took it all in, the mess was contained to Gavin’s side. 

Arc strips down to boxers and a t-shirt, folds his jeans and tucks them away in his dresser. He grabs his earbuds and lays in bed, stiff and uncomfortable, as he goes over his class schedule. 

 

Arc stirs when he hears the door unlock and open at some ungodly time in the morning. Light barely peeks in through their windows. He’s facing the wall as he listens to Gavin relock the door and pad over to his bed.

Figures Arc would get the asshole roommate who wanders in and out at all hours. He grinds his molars, wishing that he had tried to find a roommate through facebook like everyone else did - everyone else who had enough foresight to realize that rooming with a total stranger was downright archaic.

In all those preparatory summer months, Arc never thought about it, downright  _ refused _ to think about it. In his mind when he imagined going to college he thought about the classes he’d attend and the nights he’d spend in the library and the coffee he’d be drinking. He wanted to apply for an individual room and forego the whole ‘roommate thing’ but Hank had shook his head and told him that he’d miss human contact.

As Arc stares at the wall, wide awake and very aware of Gavin’s breathing, he’d like to disagree.

 

Breakfast in the dining hall was frenzied with freshmen eager to make friends and start their first day as independent adults...despite their constant need for reassurance from one another. Arc had cereal quietly and alone. He grabbed fruit on his way out and stuffed it into his bag for later.

He double checks the syllabus in his hand for the correct lecture hall even though he knows his Intro to Psychology class is in room 105 - he’s officially read the syllabus too many times and has memorized most of it. It just makes him feel better to check once more. 

Peering in he sees a few students spread around the rows of seats. When Arc enters he picks a spot close to the front and near the door. He feels big and gangly as his knees bump the small desk. He grabs a book from his bag so it doesn’t feel like time ticks so slowly.

Arc reads several pages of  _ The Book Thief _ before he’s interrupted by a soft voice saying, “I read that book last summer. It’s really good.”

Arc looks up from the book to see a smiling girl with a loose blond ponytail resting over her shoulder. Her ID hangs on a keychain dangling from her backpack along with blue lanyard.

“Yeah. I really enjoy the narrator.” Arc says, watching her take the seat next to him. He hadn’t anticipated anyone actually talking to him. Thanks to his resting bitchface there are no visible signs of his inward panic.

“I’m Chloe.” She says, pulling her laptop out of her bag.

“I’m Arc. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Arc.” She says, considering it, “That’s a really cool name.”

They talk about majors; she’s undecided but leaning towards psychology, he’s very decided and plans on criminology. She’s nice and her nose wrinkles when she laughs.

Halfway through class Arc realizes that it’s possible he’s made a friend. At least an acquaintance. 

 

A mental note is made to not get the coffee from the vendor in the quad. It’s watery and awful but Arc drinks it anyways because he’s paid for it and he doesn’t see a trash can until the cup is half empty. He people watches as he walks to his next class. Plenty of freshmen nervously navigating on foreign terrain, sophomores sighing thankfully that they are no longer that naive, and some upperclassmen strolling to their buildings long accustomed to their university.

Arc knows his way around because he’s memorized the map months ago, just so he  _ wouldn’t  _ be that person wandering the quad in a daze. He prides himself on very little; his wits, his grades, and his ability to  _ not _ look like a walking disaster.

Even if he feels like one.

His day passes: After Psych he has a 200 level Writing class - the only reason Arc got in was because he had AP English Lit and Lang credits and he tested out of the rudimentary, freshman level classes. After that he runs into Chloe again at the dining all and has dinner with her and her roommate, Kara.

The food is terrible, bordering on inedible, but he finds himself smiling as he sits with them and listens to them talk about their first days. It’s pleasant.

Until Gavin walks into the dinning hall. Arc must have made a face, must have rolled his eyes without even noticing, because Chloe and Kara turn to look at whatever offended him.

“Who’s that?” Kara asks, taking in Gavin’s rumpled appearance. That seems to be his constant state; rumpled.

Arc stabs an undercooked broccoli with is fork, “Roommate.”

Gavin catches Arc’s eye and glares at him before getting in line to grab dinner.

“That bad?” Chloe asks.

Arc shrugs, “He’s not great.

 

They don’t actually talk to each other at all the first week. They don’t  _ see _ much of each other, either. Their schedules seem to just work out to where Arc always gets up before Gavin and Gavin always comes back to the dorm late. Arc takes evening showers and Gavin takes four a.m showers. It’s maddening and dysfunctional, but for now it works.

When they  _ are _ around each other, it's almost like same-sided magnets repelling each other. An invisible force pushing them away and enforcing a maximum proximity of five feet. When Gavin’s lying on his bed, Arc is at his desk and vice versa. They can’t occupy too much of the same space.

 

Arc thinks he’s being proactive when he decides to hole up in the library during the weekend to work on his assignments. There’s at least a dozen parties, half of them bound to be duds, with invites snuck under the dorm room doors or shared online and Arc is certain Gavin will be at one of them. He’s already been out most nights during the week, it’s kind of a given.

It’s a nice library, possibly the nicest library Arc has ever been in. A mix of old architecture and modern design in all the right ways. It stands three stories tall with banks of computers and study rooms and books. Oh, the glorious amounts of books. Arc walks down the aisles, running his fingers over the spines just for the comfort it brings him.

He could spend all four of his college years here and never complain once.

The couch, plush and well loved, on the second floor by the long stretch of windows calls out to Arc. He settles on it sideways, taking up most of it with his long legs. He pulls his laptop out to begin working when he hears the rattling of a book cart get closer and closer.

“Jesus, can’t you work somewhere else?”

The hairs on the back of Arc’s neck stand. He turns to face Gavin, who leans against the book cart. He’s sneering down at Arc, making the scar on his nose prominent.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Arc asks, sitting up like he’s been caught in a compromising position. Gavin hardly seems like the book type, let alone the university library type. He very much seems like the  _ ruin Arc’s life  _ type.

“Work study.”

“You work here?”

“Yeah, dipshit, that’s what the  _ work _ in  _ work study _ implies.”

Arc’s face heats up, “Sorry, you must have misunderstood my shock; I didn’t realize they hired apes.”

Gavin huffs out a breath through his nose, he opens his mouth like he might say something, but instead he pushes his cart away.

Arc puts his earbuds in and stays in that spot out of spite.

 

“ _ C’mon, kid, it’s only the second week. _ ” Hank’s voice reassures as Arc walks back to his dorm slowly, like his boots are lined with lead. It’s a Thursday night, meaning it’s practically the third week and Arc is very much over his seething and brooding roommate.

“I want to throw him out a window.”

“ _ Your tuition’s expensive enough, I don’t need a fine on top of it. _ ”

Arc groans, “You’re a cop, you should be more concerned about my violent tendencies.”

“ _ The last time you had a violent tendency you were eight and some kid pushed Connor off a swing. As long as Gavin doesn’t push Connor of a swing I’m not worried about it _ .”

“Can you take this seriously for a minute? I don’t even know why he hates me.”

Hank pauses like he might offer some sage advice but all he says is, “ _ Some people are dicks. _ ”

Ah, the wise words of Hank Anderson - some people are dicks.

 

“Would it kill you to function like a normal person?” Arc asks in the dead of night as Gavin tries to tiptoe into their room. Arc’s voice, low and sleepy but still menacing, scares the shit out of Gavin. Arc sits up and sees him literally jump. 

It’s late, or early depending on how you look at it. Arc’s tired of waking up every time Gavin stumbles into the room at  _ god only knows  _ o’clock.

Gavin stands by the doorway, like he’s not sure he’s going to come in the rest of the way. It takes a minute for Arc to realize he’s holding something behind his back. Arc uses the light of his phone to see better.

“Are you...holding a pillow?”

Before, Arc was annoyed by the interruption to his sleep schedule. Now, his curiosity has been piqued - what  _ was _ Gavin getting up to in the middle of the night?

“Shut the fuck up and go back to bed.” Gavin says, stomping to his dresser and tossing the pillow on his bed. Arc stares at him, completely dumbfounded, as Gavin peels off his shirt. “Enjoying the show?”

His cheeks turn so red he’s surprised they’re not  _ glowing _ . Arc flops back onto his bed and listens to the sounds of Gavin starting the shower as he tries to fall asleep again.

 

“What do you mean he was holding a pillow?” Chloe asks, horrified, from the spot on her bed, books in lap and highlighter in hand. They’re studying for a Psych quiz despite the fact that Arc would likely ace it with or without studying.

Arc palms the side of his face before running a hand through his hair, “He came in at 3:30 AM, approximately, and had a pillow with him. Who does that?” He’s sitting delicately on the edge of her bed - sunflower patterned bedspreads and knitted blankets from home. He runs his fingers over the soft yarn.

Chloe bites her lip, “Is he sleeping somewhere else?”

“I guess. Hookups aren’t usually  _ BYOP _ .” He snickers and she laughs.

Gavin still comes back to the dorm whenever the hell he pleases, maybe even a little louder than before. Gavin lets the door slam behind him and Arc does his best not to flinch when it does. He ignores the sounds of Gavin changing or showering or climbing into bed. The nagging feeling in his chest is also left ignored; what Gavin does in the middle of the night is none of his concern.

No, he’s content enough to attend to his studies. He’s content to hang out with Chloe and Kara. He’s content to text Connor throughout the day, hearing about petty high school drama and dumb memes. He doesn’t need to get along with his roommate, he doesn’t even need to  _ know _ him.

 

Libraries have always been more than a safe place to Arc; they’ve been his fortress, his castle. An escape and a refuge all in one. Each bookcase a wall that protected him, each character he read about a friend.

So maybe he was a lonely kid growing up. Connor has always been his best friend and it was easy to hangout in elementary school when they still had the same recess and lunch time. But the two year gap between them meant Arc was the first to venture into middle school; tall, gangly and alone. By the time Arc was in 8th grade Connor was in 6th and was the popular boy of his class, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Connor always offered Arc to sit with him and his friends at lunch but Arc preferred to be known as the kid who ate in the library instead of the kid who ate with his little brother. High school was pretty much the same except Arc grew into his body by junior year; his height more elegant, than gangly. His muscles toned and strong. People paid more attention to him but only marginally. Instead of being the quiet kid that ate in the library, he was the  _ mysterious _ kid who ate in the library. His classmates  _ looked _ at him more but they didn’t talk to him.

And Connor, then a freshman, was still oblivious about being the popular boy in his class.

But things are different now;  _ libraries _ are different now because Gavin is there tainting the whole thing. Arc bristles, as he takes down key quotes for his paper. Even with his headphones the rattling of the book cart is loud and obnoxious, perfectly mirroring his roommate. 

As the noise gets louder, closer, Arc realizes that libraries weren’t the same anymore. They didn’t offer him peace.

Gavin passes by Arc’s table and flips him off. Arc returns the gesture.

Music from the party vibrates through the walls of the house and out onto the street. It feels like the whole block is shaking but it’s not like movies where kids stand outside on the lawn or the porch with red solo cup. The party, the drinking and dancing and god knows what else, is inside; the tell tale heart, pulsing and loud. 

Chloe and Kara had begged him to meet them at this party. Now, as he rolls his shoulders in an attempt to dispel some tension, he wishes he would have come  _ with _ them as opposed to meeting them there.

Despite the obvious signs of this being the only party on the street, Arc still checks the text to see if the address is correct. It is. And it  _ still _ is when he checks his phone a few seconds later as he stands in front of the door.

He just has to go in. That’s all. He needs to grab the handle and push. Easy.

He stalls a minute longer, just to even his breathing.

Arc didn’t go to his  _ prom,  _ let alone  _ actual parties _ in high school. The sum of his social life was watching horror movies with Connor and figuring out ways to to scare the shit out of him.

He enters the house and almost feels like a classical hero with his phone clutched in his hand like a sword. The belly of the beast was filled with groups of people drinking and smoking and vaguely moving to the bass heavy music. But there were others cluttered on the stairs or the couch, leaning in close to hear each other talk. 

Arc, big and foreboding, passes through everyone and into the kitchen with ease. Some partygoers drift in and out, taking from or adding to the collection of alcohol littering the counters. Cups and glasses and empty beer bottles crowd every surface. Arc’s phone buzzes with a text that reads  _ We’re going to be a little late, sorry! _ From Chloe.

He sighs heavy through his nose. It’s surprising that steam doesn’t come out. Arc’s not mad he’s just not good at this and didn’t plan on having to get good at it alone.

“Goddamn,  _ Richard _ , are you following me or something?”

It’s Gavin’s voice. There’s too many reasons for why he hates how his legal name sounds on his roommates tongue. Arc turns and Gavin’s there; tight black shirt and ripped jeans and flannel around his waist. He still looks dishevelled but like he’s also trying to make it work for him. Styled grunge. It suits him, Arc thinks bitterly.

“I could say the same to you.”

Arc doesn’t realize they’re almost toe to toe and blocking a portion of the counter until a hand reaches between them and grabs a cup and then a bottle of whiskey. They step away from each other. 

“You’ve never been to a party, have you?”

Arc’s face hardens and that’s enough of a  _ no _ for Gavin. He laughs, mean and cruel like every other interaction they’ve had thus far. Arc doesn’t understand why the back of his neck burns like that, under his sweater. He’s not ashamed of being clean cut but when Gavin’s there staring at him like that he almost feels like he ought to be.

Arc eyes the backdoor. He’s been in this house for all of six minutes and he’s already desperate for fresh air and space. His legs move on their own accord.

But Gavin calls out, “Pick your poison.”

“What?” Arc asks, turning to see Gavin holding rum in one hand and vodka in the other. Tipping them back and forth like scales.

“What’ll it be?”

“I’d die before letting you mix me a drink.” 

Gavin rolls his eyes, “I’m just trying to loosen you up so you can get the stick out of your ass.”

Arc’s fists bunch and he has half a mind to slam Gavin into a wall. Maybe he won’t have such a big mouth after Arc knocks a few of his teeth out. He steps forward, seriously considering it when he sees Chloe and Kara and a girl he doesn’t recognize staring at them.

“Gavin, what the fuck are you doing?” The unknown girl says stepping into the kitchen to drag him away by the wrist. She looks up to Arc, “Don’t mind him he’s just...dumb.”

“That’s  _ him _ .” Gavin says through gritted teeth, so quiet Arc could barely hear it.

“Oh, fuck.” The girl says, taking in Arc once more. “Fuck, Gav.”

She drags Gavin away, back into the swell of people, scolding him like a mom would a child. Arc strains his ears to pick up her words, to try to understand why she looked at him like that but its all white noise.

Chloe and Kara step forward, worried and apologetic. They look at him like a wounded puppy and it’s a look Arc has rarely received in life. The party is loud and everything smells alcoholic and it’s all a little too much for him so he just nods when they ask him if he’s okay.

He ends up trying tequila and hating it.

 

They ditch the party after an hour or two of mingling. Arc keeps an ear and an eye out for Gavin the whole time but he never appears again. Instead he meets a few of Chloe and Kara’s friends but most notably Luther who manages to make Arc feel  _ small _ . If the way he treats Kara is any sign, he’s the very definition of a gentle giant.

They pile into an uber and go to Ihop because it’s open and Chloe wants a hot chocolate. The waitress eyes them, a little too knowing and mischievous for Arc’s taste. She smiles at them and for a moment, when they’re all laughing and grinning and a little tipsy, Arc wonder if she thinks it’s some kind of double date. 

It doesn’t help that Kara keeps stealing strawberries off Luther’s pancakes and Luther keeps smiling at her like she’s an entire field of flowers. 

Arc panics, wondering if it  _ is _ a double date and he’s just too dense to realize it. Especially when his and Chloe’s hands meet over a bottle of sticky syrup.

He flinches back from the touch. Anxiety prickles in his stomach.

Chloe’s a sweet girl, sweeter than his blueberry pancakes. She’s pretty and she likes books and she’s funny without even realizing it. He likes her, just doesn’t like her like  _ that _ .

“Are you okay?” She asks him for the millionth time that night.

He deflates, sinking back into the booth as everything hits him at once. “I just...want to go home.”

They think he means he’s tired and he wants to go lay down on his stupidly small bed in his stupidly small dorm room. But he doesn’t. He wants to stop being so anxious, he wants to be comfortable and happy; he wants  _ home _ .

 

Arc had no idea that he’d  _ miss _ the tense silence of his and Gavin’s dorm room. Their relationship, if you can call it that, shifts after the party. It’s seismic. They go from pointedly ignoring each other to arguing about  _ everything _ the moment they see each other.

“Stop trampling over my stuff, you oaf.” Gavin says after Arc steps on his jeans that he keeps leaving in front of the bathroom.

“Pick up after yourself, you slob.”

Arc thinks about going full 90s sitcom and taping a line down the room so that there are boundaries but all he has is clear scotch tape.

“Your music’s too loud.” Arc says, trying desperately to sleep as Gavin works late one night at his desk, with music coming through his cheap headphones.

“Bite me.” Is the only answer he gets before the music is even louder.

 

Arc reads  _ Beowulf  _ out on the grass of the quad. He’s  _ that guy _ now simply because he knows that Gavin won’t show up out of nowhere and start harassing him. He does his work in coffee shops but it never feels right. There’s too much noise and it makes him want his room;  _ his room _ . The one across the hall from Connor’s. The one that he and Hank painted slate grey one weekend because the white started to hurt Arc’s eyes. His room where the windows overlooked the the tire swing in the backyard.

His dorm room is a warzone and the same goes for the library. He hasn’t talked to Chloe outside of class in over a week because every time he meets her eyes he worries he’s misread the entire basis of their friendship.

Arc is alone on the grass and when Hank calls him he hits ignore and texts him the lame excuse of being busy with a project. But really there’s a knot in his throat that refuses to untie itself.

 

The screeching of a fire alarm rings in Arc’s ears as he slides out of bed and into sweatpants. Gavin’s bed, unsurprisingly, is empty. Arc grabs a hoodie and his keys before shuffling out the building with dozens of other students. He’s half glad Gavin isn’t there, mostly because Arc covers his ears each time he passes an alarm bell.

It’s fall and chilly enough for Arc to see his breath. He tugs his hoodie on and watches as roommates and friends huddle together for warmth in the parking lot. Exhausted RA’s plead for their residents to be patient as everything is sorted out.

Not too far away Arc spots Gavin sitting on the trunk of a car. Or what used to be a car but now was more rust than anything else. But there’s a sturdiness to it as well. Most of the students are barefoot and in sleepwear but not Gavin; black combat boots and zipped leather jacket with the hood drawn up.

Arc walks over to him, because he’s tired and in the mood to make someone else miserable. Gavin groans as soon as he spots Arc.

“I find it suspicious that you happened to be out here before everyone else.” Arc says.

Gavin stares at him, eyes narrowed and brows knit, “I do live here, dipshit.”

“You weren’t in the room.”

“How observant.” Gavin sneers.

“Where were you?”

Gavin huffs, “Jesus, I didn’t set off the fire alarms, alright? It was probably some kid with weed or candles or any of the other flammable things we’re not supposed to have. Chill out.”

Arc smirks because he sees the way Gavin shifts, just slightly uncomfortable. Like he’s hiding something. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Gavin hops off the trunk and walks up to Arc like there isn’t a height difference between them, “I don’t fucking have to.”

Gavin shoves him back with one hand on his chest. Hard and unexpected so Arc stumbles. Other students look on, excited and scared by the idea that a fight might break out. 

The only reason Arc doesn’t shove Gavin back is because the fire department arrives with their sirens blaring. Arc walks away, retreating further and further from the noise. His hands shake with the want to cover his ears again but his face burns with the feeling that Gavin is still looking at him.

 

The next day an email goes out, saying that no real damage was done but that freshmen are prohibited from lighting candles in the dorms. Arc bites his tongue, hating the fact that Gavin was right and he was wrong.

 

“Are you avoiding me for any reason in particular?” Chloe asks as she stands in front of Arc’s desk on Monday. She’s blunt and willing to stare at him until he answers.

Arc blinks, “I’m not avoiding you.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows and presses her lips together. This answer will not suffice.

“Not on purpose.” He relents.

She huffs and heads for the auditorium stairs so she can pick a different seat in a different row for the rest of the semester.

Arc rolls his eyes at himself, wondering how he can get such good grades and still be so stupid. This is why he chooses to stay quiet most of the time. This is why he didn’t have friends in high school.

Scrambling, Arc follows her, “I’m not avoiding you. I just-” He sighs, figuring he’s already fucked it up this much; why not keep going, “You don’t...like me. Right?”

“What?” She turns around on the step to face him. They’re at eye level now and Arc can’t back down.

“We didn’t go on a date at Ihop, right?”

“...No. Why would we-- did you think it was a date?”

“I don’t know...Kara and Luther kept-- and I thought...the waitress,” He shakes his head and starts over, “I’m not good. At this...having friends and being social thing.”

They stand there, on the steps leading up to the back rows. She lets out a small laugh; it’s kind and understanding but still manages to make Arc feel embarrassed. “I see that now.”

Arc’s face heats up. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Arc. We’re good.” Chloe moves around him, and descends the stairs, heading for their original seats. “Also, I’m a lesbian.” She mentions, without turning around.

Arc stays at Chloe and Kara’s dorm  _ late _ . Males are technically not supposed to be in female dorm rooms past this hour but it’s a rule that’s hardly ever enforced. He  _ missed _ them, missed the simple joy of their company. They all sit on the soft, pink rug that decorated the floor between the girls’ beds. They talk about everything Arc has missed out on; Kara and Luther started dating which made Arc feel slightly less insane. Chloe talks about the girl in her French class that she really, really likes and mentions that they had started meeting before class to practice their accents.

“Is what the kids are calling it these days?” Arc smirks.

Kara laughs hard as Chloe punches his bicep.

Once the laughing dies down, they turn to Arc with their eyebrows raised, like he has some crush to reveal as well.

He bites his cheek and figures he might as well practice being more open, “It takes a while for me to get used to people. I’d have to feel really comfortable with someone before I could date them.”

Kara shrugs, “Cool.”

Chloe nods, “Cool.”

Arc smiles. His chest feels light, like he can breath a little easier. “Cool.”

 

He walks through the parking lot on his way back to his residence hall. Arc freezes, his steps skidding to a stop when he sees Gavin’s car. The fading paint and rusting bumper make it unmistakable. But it’s not the car that makes him stop dead in his tracks, it’s what he sees inside.

Arc steps closer, wondering if he’s just imagining things because he’s tired but no. As he approaches the car it only reaffirms what he saw.

Gavin is lying in the back row, leather jacket draped over his torso like a blanket. His pillow is under his head.

Did he get locked out of their dorm?

Why wouldn’t he just call the RA?

Arc taps on the window, light and hesitant. Gavin springs up, hitting his head on the ceiling. He’s groggy but when he makes eye contact with Arc his whole face turns red. He shoves the pillow down to the floorboard before exiting the car.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gavin asks, voice raw from sleep. It cracks and almost makes Gavin sound vulnerable.

Arc blinks, putting two and two together. “Do you...sleep out here?”

Gavin’s chest rises and falls fast with heaving breaths, “I can’t sleep in the dorm.”

“It’s freezing out here. Do I snore or something?” Arc asks, reaching for some plausible explanation.

Gavin rolls his eyes, “It’s not  _ you _ .” Arc almost feels offended by the way Gavin says it, low and disgusted. 

“Okay...”

“I’m used to sleeping in my car.”

Arc’s jaw drops, “What?”

“Before I came here I lived in my car, okay? Jesus, fuck. Why the fuck do you think I moved myself in? I’m a homeless scholarship kid living with Adonis’ preppy twin brother.”

“I’m not preppy.”

“That’s what you got out of that?!” Gavin’s voices echoes, loud and hurt.

“You’re more comfortable in your car.”

“I’m not more  _ comfortable,  _ I’m just  _ used  _ to it.” Gavin shakes his head, “I knew you wouldn’t fucking get it. Fuck. Forget I said anything.”

Gavin clambers for the driver’s side and speeds away, leaving Arc there, cold and alone.

When Arc gets back to their dorm he feels stupid for not picking up on it sooner. The way Gavin keeps most of his things in boxes, as if he’s ready to leave at any moment. The way Gavin squirrels away food, like he’s scared it might go away. The mismatched sheets, the grunge look, the fact that his hair hasn’t been cut in a long time.

A boy without a home living with a boy who desperately misses his.

When Gavin comes back to the room just before dawn Arc understands its that so other people won’t know that he sleeps in his car.

They don’t talk about it, obviously. Arc can’t even look Gavin in the eyes without that gnawing feeling in his stomach getting worse.

 

“ _ Are you sitting down? _ ” Connor asks. His voice small and distorted from the phone.

Arc, flops onto his bed, says “Is what you have to say really that dramatic?”

“ _ I got a facebook message from mom. Or some lady who says she’s mom, I don’t really know. _ ”

Arc feels the world spin around him. He sits up fast and immediately regrets it because of the headrush. “What? When? Did you tell Hank?”

“ _ Calm down. I’m just telling you in case she messages you too. _ ”

“Answer me, Connor.”

He sighs, “ _ A few days ago. I haven’t decided anything yet, I just thought you should know. _ ”

“Tell Hank. She’s not supposed to contact us. That’s how adoption works.”

 Connor’s quiet on the other end. Arc still pictures him like he’s a toddler and not his teenage brother. “ _ She seems nice. _ ”

“You tell Hank or I will.” Arc hisses, a little more vicious that he means to be.

Connor groans, “ _ Fine. _ ” And then he hangs up like he didn’t just drop a bomb on Arc’s chest. His stomach swirls, nauseous, and he runs for the bathroom, afraid he might puke.

He’s dry heaving into the toilet for  _ God knows how long _ when suddenly there’s footsteps behind him. Flight or flight kicks in and he tries to stand, but all he does is stumble backward. His head hits the wall.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Gavin stares at him with wide eyes, his hands stretched out like he’s talking to a wild animal.

Arc continues hyperventilating.

“Fuck, fuck. It’s okay.” Gavin says, stroking Arc’s massive, shaking shoulders. “It’s fine. You’re fine.” He guides him to sit back down.

With snot and tears running down his face it doesn’t feel fine. Gavin is absolutely the  _ last _ person Arc would ever want to see in this moment. But Gavin is the one he lives with. Gavin is the one who’s  _ there _ . 

“Hey, listen to me. Just breathe with me, okay?”

Arc can barely hear his words and tries to wipe his face with the back of his sleeve. He’s eighteen. He hasn’t cried in years; what the fuck is  _ wrong _ with him? Why can’t he catch his breath?

“Close your eyes and just breathe in with me, okay? Ready?” Gavin breaths in, loud and deep. Arc mimics it but it’s choppy and that frustrates him. 

Gavin lets the air out slowly and Arc follows suit.

They do that again and again, in their teeny tiny bathroom. They do that until Arc’s breathing still isn’t normal but it’s close.

And Gavin is close, too. They’re both kneeling on the ground, and Gavin’s hands are still rubbing Arc’s shoulders and biceps. Arc’s hands found Gavin’s knees at some point and now that oxygen is getting to his brain once more, he retracts them. 

Gavin settles back onto his heels, inching his face away from Arc’s. 

“You good?”

Arc nods because he can’t say yes. He can’t say anything yet.

Gavin studies him for a while, grey eyes roaming over him and his haggard expression. Arc feels it, feels like he should be self conscious, but he’s not. He’s just worn out.

“Can you get up? I kinda gotta take a piss.”

The honesty of it shocks a laugh out of Arc, loud and borderline hysterical. It’s contagious, and Gavin starts laughing too.

 

Arc could be wrong, but it feels like he and Gavin are closer to...something. Not friendship, but maybe understanding. Equal footing; each having bared part of their brokenness. It’s nauseating, carrying the knowledge that Gavin saw him at his weakest and  _ helped _ . Gavin might not know why Arc was panicking - a pitiful, sniveling mess - but he was  _ there _ . Gavin  _ soothed _ him.

But when Arc caught Gavin sleeping in his car he didn’t offer comfort. So maybe it’s not equal footing. Maybe Arc feels a little guilty.

All Arc really knows is that they fight less. That magnetic force field that used to push them away from each other becomes less and less. Gavin starts coming back to the dorm earlier and earlier with the passing days. 

And if Arc snags him fruit from the dining hall and leaves it on Gavin’s desk as a stupid, silent, apology, neither of them say anything.

 

Arc’s on break from his Writing class when Hank calls.

“Hello.” Arc answers, leaning against the wall.

There’s a deep sigh on the other end that causes Arc to tense. “ _ Have you talked to Connor recently? _ ”

Arc’s brows knit, his palms sweat, “He called a week ago to tell me about-- Is he okay?”

“ _ He’s fine, you don’t need to worry. He’s just grounded indefinitely.” _

Somewhere in the background Connor whines and Arc can perfectly imagine the look Hank is giving him - flat lips, pinched brows. It’s the expression Arc wears right now.

“What’s going on. Why is he with you?” Arc asks. It’s 2pm on a Wednesday, Connor should be in class.

“ _ Your brother thought it would be a good idea to meet a stranger on the internet. _ ”

Arc’s blood runs cold and for a minute, he thinks he might pass out. “He met her?! I told him she’s not supposed to contact us. I--” Arc breathes, heavy and frustrated, “I told him to  _ tell  _ you.”

“ _ Easy, kid- _ ”

Arc seethes, “What was he thinking! He’s smarter than that.”

“ _ Arc _ ,” Hank’s voice is firm and pulls him from the whirlwind of thoughts, “ _ It’s okay. Connor is safe and, like I said, very grounded. But it was...he did meet her. Your biological mother. _ ”

Arc squeezes his eyes shut. 

“ _ Did she contact you _ ?”

Arc starts shaking his head before realizing Hank can’t see him, “No.”

“ _ Good _ .” Hank pulls the phone away but Arc can hear him tell another detective to keep an eye on his son. A few seconds and some footsteps later Hank says, “ _ Arc I know you’re worried- _ ”

“Understatement.”

Hank amends it, “ _ You have every right to be worried. But it’s okay. We’re charging her now. If she knows what’s good for her she’ll stay away this time. _ ”

“I should have told you myself. I should have called you after Connor told me. I-”

“ _ Arc _ ,” Hank warns, “ _ this is not your fault. This is not Connor’s fault. She’s the only one who needs to be held accountable, you understand me? _ ”

Arc is quiet for a long time. Guilt and panic threaten to swallow him whole. His throat is tight and his eyes sting with tears.

“Can I come home?”

“ _ Yeah, kid. I’ll get you tomorrow. _ ”

 

Arc packs that night because it will make his hands stop jittering. His book bag filled with his necessary studying supplies and his duffle bag filled with dirty laundry because he doesn’t have to pay for laundry at home.

He texts Chloe and Kara and gives them an edited version; they know he’s adopted they just don’t know the whole song and dance. So he tells them his birth mother contacted his little brother.

He does  _ not _ tell them that his birth mother used to make them drink hot sauce when they were being too loud. Or that their birth mother would leave them alone at the park until the streetlights came on because she was  _ busy working _ . Or that even a year after they were adopted Connor still slept in Arc’s bed, shaking and afraid that she might come back.

Those details, dark and unshareable, stay painfully close to his chest, making it hard to breathe. 

It’s near midnight when Gavin gets back to the dorm. Arc’s curled into the very corner of his bed where two walls of the room meet. He has a book in his lap. The lamp on his desk illuminates the room just enough so he can read - if his mind would allow him. He tries, he’s been  _ trying _ for the past hour, but the words keep blurring into an unfocusable mess.

All he can think about is Connor and their mother, who was no mother to them.

“Going somewhere?” Gavin asks, eyeing the duffle bag resting on Arc’s chair.

Arc looks at him and doesn’t even bother masking his weary expression. “Home.”

“Oh.” Gavin says, tossing his backpack down by his desk.

“There was a family emergency with my brother and...” Arc says, unbidden, “It’s complicated.”

They’re quiet as Gavin toes off his shoes. Arc returns his attention to the unreadable book as Gavin undresses to boxers and a t-shirt before sitting on his own bed, phone in hand. Curled up into his corner as well.

“You wanna talk about it?” Gavin whispers, voice low and rough. Arc’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised. “I mean, fuck, it’s whatever-- I don’t give a shit, you just look-”

“I’m adopted.”

Gavin chews on his lip but doesn’t say anything.

“My brother and I are adopted. Our birth mother messaged him and-” Arc breathes deep, steadying himself, forcing himself to stay calm, “he  _ met _ her.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.” Arc sits up, “She...she’s not-- He hasn’t seen her since he was  _ four _ . It was supposed to remain that way.” He says all this facing the doorway, almost forgetting who he’s talking to. Almost.

“She hurt you guys.”

Arc turns and his blue eyes meet Gavin’s grey. They’re soft, knowing. He doesn’t look at him with hatred or pity or anything other than understanding. It’s shocking, given how many fights they’ve had.

Arc nods.

And there it is, out in the open; known to someone who isn’t family. She hurt them physically and emotionally, and is  _ still _ hurting them by showing up like this. Maybe Connor doesn’t remember, he’s too young. Maybe he’s blocked it out but Arc can’t forget.

If he forgets it could happen again.

“I,” Gavin starts but shakes his head, correcting himself, “I won’t burn down the place while you’re gone.” Then he turns over and puts his ear buds in.

Arc closes the book, gets off the bed to turn the light off, and proceeds to toss and turn most of the night.

 

When Hank picks him up in the morning, his car rolls in with the fog. Arc places his bags in the back before sliding into the passenger’s seat up front. Arc yawns; the circles under his eyes announce how little sleep he got. 

Hank squeezes his shoulder, wordless but comforting still. Arc ends up falling asleep on the drive home.

 

When they get to the house, Connor is already at school. Hank arranged for a beat cop to drive him in a squad car, hoping the embarrassment would teach Connor not to ditch class and keep secrets. Most kids would be mortified but Arc knew Connor, goofy and oblivious, probably made it seem cool to the rest of his class. 

Arc sits on the couch with Sumo; more accurately, Sumo sits on Arc’s lap like he’s still a puppy and not a massive St. Bernard. 

Hank makes coffee in the kitchen. “You’re sure you fine? You can hangout in the break room at the station, if you want. Or I could take the day-”

“I’m fine, Hank. I’ve delayed you enough already.”

“Alright.” Hank nods, heading to the door with his coffee in a tumbler. His badge dangling from a chain on his neck and his holster on his belt. “Sumo’s in charge.” And with that, he leaves.

Eventually, Sumo releases him and Arc goes to find his room is exactly as he left it, except that the sheets have been changed. When Arc lays down in his bed they smell of fresh detergent and  _ home _ . He buries his face in the pillow and inhales.

And he sleeps some more, his body tired and desperate for rest.

 

When Connor gets home, with another squad car escort, they play video games and eat junk food and it kind of feels like summer all over again. It’s easy and effortless and Arc can pretend that he doesn’t have to go back to school when the weekend ends. He can pretend that Connor didn’t meet their biological mother.

But he does have to go back.

But he did meet her.

While the next level of the game loads Connor brings it up; smooth, like he’s practiced it. “She gave me an amazon gift card. I bought this game with it.”

Arc’s thumbs freeze. His face hardens.

“Are you mad at me?”

No. Yes. Both are true and it’s confusing and complex. “What’s she like?” Arc asks instead.

“Kind of weird. She looked at me like I was a ghost. She looked terrible. Guilty.”

_ Good _ , Arc thinks. It’s what she deserves. She  _ is  _ guilty. 

“She was surprised I agreed to meet her. She asked where you were and looked around the coffee shop like you were just going to appear. She called you Richard.” Connor said, turning to face his brother fully. He’s sixteen but his eyes are big, they have always been big. He’s smart, so smart, but he’s just a boy - full of mistakes and hope. Arc can’t be angry about that.

“She could have been dangerous.”

Connor nods, “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Yeah.”

Arc huffs and shoves Connor playfully, “Promise never to be that stupid again.”

Connor rolls his eyes, “I promise.”

 

On Friday night they have family dinner; Hank cooks a huge pot of pasta and sauce and garlic bread. Arc helps make the meatballs and Connor sets the table. Sumo sits by the backdoor, tail wagging lazily as he waits for someone to give him a scrap of something.

They sit and eat. Connor talks about the test he had and the student council meeting, Connor’s his class treasurer, and the plans they have for a Halloween dance. He eyes Hank, trying to gauge how indefinite his being grounded is and if it extents to Halloween.

Arc’s happy to listen to his brother talk about normal high school things and not the fact that a few days ago he was face to face with their birth mother. 

Between bites, Arc checks his phone under the table. Chloe is texting him from the library because Kara hinted that she might like to have room for a few hours. Arc doesn’t think about that too hard.

Chloe:  _ I see your roommate, should I throw a book at him? _

Arc:  _ Please don’t start a fight in the library. _

Chloe:  _ What if I just accidentally trip him when he goes by? _

Arc: ... _ We’re actually kind of friends now _

Chloe:  _ WHAT! Details! Now! _

Hank waves a hand in front of his face, “I send you to college for two months and you forget your manners?”

“Sorry.” Arc’s ears turn red. He slides his phone back into his pocket.

Connor smiles in that devious little brother way. He’s sitting across from Arc but he leans forward in his seat anyways. “Who’re you texting?”

“A friend.”

Connor asks, “Is it a girl?”

Arc rolls his eyes, “Stop being juvenile.”

“Is it a boy?” Connor waggles his eyebrows. 

Arc turns to Hank, “Can you make him stop.”

Hank shakes his head, “Afraid not. You know the rules; no phones at the table. Guess you’re just gonna have to get teased mercilessly.”

Arc sighs and faces Connor again, “It’s a girl, her name is Chloe-”

“ _ Mhmm _ .” Connor hums, cutting him off.

“She’s gay. We’re just friends.”

Connor’s smile subsides. It’s still present but less  _ shit eating _ . “Oh. Cool. Not as cool as you getting a girlfriend or boyfriend, but cool.”

“Believe it or not, some people go to college for an  _ education _ .”Arc says, only slightly embarrassed.

“Damn right.” Hank chuckles as he twirls pasta onto his fork. “But a little fun wouldn’t kill you.”

Arc talks about his classes, about making friends with Chloe and Kara. He hesitates before mentioning that he  _ did _ go to a party and it was mostly lame. He does not include any details about the times he and Gavin almost ripped each other’s throats out.

 

After Arc and Connor clean the dishes, Arc steps out into the backyard. It’s a cold, clear night; crisp and beautiful. The stars shine and blink at him.

But he’s not there to stargaze. He has four unanswered texts on his phone and one missed call. All from Chloe.

She picks up on the first ring, “Explain yourself.”

“Hello to you too.” Arc says laughing. 

“I’m not here for pleasantries, I’m here for an explanation.”

Arc pauses. How does he explain that  _ friends _ is a term that should be used lightly when it comes to him and Gavin? How does he explain that the only thing that bonds them is their accidental vulnerability. Arc didn’t mean to see Gavin sleeping in his car. Gavin didn’t mean to find Arc broken and panicking in the bathroom. It just happened.

“He’ just...not so bad. I guess.”

“I have literally seen him try to start a fight with you”

Arc laughs, “Yeah. But I think it’s an act. Underneath that he’s human.”

“Did you guys have a heart to heart?”

Arc sighs and he can see his breath, “Something like that.”

“So...I shouldn’t be glaring at him from my table in the library?” Chloe asks.

“Only if he does something worth glaring at.” 

She hums, “Fine.”

 

The weekend comes to an end too quickly. On Sunday afternoon, he sits in Hank’s car just a moment longer, not quite ready to get out yet. They stay parked in front of Arc’s residence hall, quiet except for the rumble of the engine.

“Everything is going to be fine, kid.” Hank says, patting him on the back. “Trust me.”

Arc nods, comforted by the strong hand on his back. He wants to say something, he feels the words clawing at his throat but he doesn’t quite know what they are until they’re tumbling out of his mouth, “I always hoped she died. Not painfully or cruelly; I just didn’t want her to be alive. I didn’t want her to be able to find us.”

“I know.”

“Does that make me a bad person?” He asks, staring down at the floorboard. His vision blurs as the tears collect in his eyes.

“No. It makes you human.”

 

Arc spends the rest of the afternoon at his desk, catching up on the homework he neglected from the previous days. The room is empty and quiet and  _ clean _ like Gavin picked up after himself when Arc was gone.

It’s nice. But it’s also lonely. Sterile. The bathroom smells like clorox wipes.

He could head to the library or to Chloe and Kara’s dorm or a handful of other places occupied by people but he’s tired. When he’s done with his work he flops on his bed and listens to music with his eyes closed, pretending he’s in his room back home again. Pretending that he never left. He dozes off for a while, just like that.

Then the door swings open and bangs into the wall.

Arc looks up, startled. The hair on his arms stand when he sees Gavin stumble in with dried blood trailing from his nose and into his mouth. He sways on his feet, loose and light like fall leaves in the wind.

Arc rushes to his side with swift movements. He wraps an arm around Gavin’s waist to keep him up right. “What happened?”

Gavin reeks of alcohol and copper. He collapses into Arc’s embrace and lets the taller guide him into the bathroom. Arc settles him against the counter as he grabs a first aid kit.

“Gavin?” Arc repeats because his roommate still hasn’t said anything, unless his unintelligible groaning counts.

“Bar fight. Sucker punch.” Gavin mumbles. Arc tears open an antiseptic wipe and touches it to skin above Gavin’s lip. He shivers, “S’cold.”

Arc gently cleans off the dried blood. He holds the side of Gavin’s face to keep him still, his fingers graze the soft skin under his jaw. Gavin winces. “Does it hurt there?” Arc asks, pulling his hand away.

“No.” Gavin says. Arc narrows his eyes, confused, but continues cleaning him up. Arc palms the side of Gavin’s face once more. When he brings the wipe up closer to Gavi’s nostrils Gavin winces again, because it is tender there. “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry.” 

Gavin lifts his shoulders, the barest of shrugs, “You didn’t punch me.”

“Still, I don’t want to hurt you.” Arc’s voice is barely audible. They’re so close Arc could breathe the words and Gavin would hear them. Gavin stares up at him with hazy, grey eyes. Arc tilts Gavin’s face, getting a better look in the light, “You’re going to have a bruise by the way.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arc and Chloe get coffee during the slip of time they have before their next classes. Chloe sits criss cross on the bench, mocha in one hand and blueberry scone in the other. Arc sits next to her and drinks an Americano; room for cream, no sugar.

“So,” Chloe says, like she’s revealing the  _ real _ reason they’re having coffee right now, like its some top secret meeting, “about that girl in my French class, North-”

“Whom you’re desperately in love with, yes, go on.” Arc teases, smirking into his paper cup. It’s his older brother tendencies kicking in and insisting upon embarrassing others.

“I’m not  _ desperate _ \-- that’s besides the point.” Chloe pauses so she can bite her scone while her blush dissipates, “She and her roommates live off campus and are throwing a Halloween party next weekend. I’m invited which means  _ you’re _ invited.”

“Right, because I did so well at the last party we went to.” Arc says, staring down at his shoes. His insides tense at the memory. He swallows hard to get rid of the phantom burn of alcohol sliding down his throat. There were too many people, too many noises, too many sensations in one tight space.

Chloe touches his arm, pulling him back to the present, “It’s not going to be a rager. A few people in costumes, maybe some board games and horror movies. Kara and Luther are going, so you should come too.”

Arc raises a brow, “Now you’re resorting to peer pressure.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, slightly exasperated, “It will be fun, Arc. I promise.”

“Fine,” Arc sips his drink, “but I’m not wearing a costume.”

 

Inexplicably, he finds himself at a Halloween store the next day with Chloe and Kara shoving ridiculous costumes at him. Luther’s there too, getting much of the same treatment. They fair the storm together.

 

A few nights later Arc reads his textbook, mouthing the words and tracing each line with his finger, on the couch in the library. The couch he’s determined to make  _ his _ couch by senior year because he spends so much time there already. The world is quiet and paused around him, as far as he’s concerned. He’s focused, zoomed in on this one task.

It’s how he’s always been with his studies. It’s not enough to say that he likes learning; he’s nourished by it, by the promise of new information or way of thought. It fills him in a way very little else does. He’s a nerd, he’s aware of it.

Arc’s fingers are mid pageflip when there’s a shift in weight on the cushions as someone plops down next to him. Arc stills, wondering exactly why  _ anyone _ would do this when most of the library seems to be empty.

But as he looks to his right he sees it’s Gavin. His roommate spreads his arms over the back of the couch as he settles in. The squeaky book cart is abandoned by some shelves.

“Hi?” Arc says, beyond library quiet. His voice is soft and confused and barely louder than a breath.  

“Hey.”

Arc waits for more. Arc waits for Gavin to say anything at all, but he doesn’t. “What are you doing?” Arc asks. He eyes Gavin and wonders if there’s some kind of obvious social cue he’s missing.

“It’s called a  _ break, _ Richard, I’m entitled to one.” Gavin’s tone straddles the fence between mocking and banter. There’s no telling which side he’ll lean to.

Arc bristles at his birth name wishing, not for the first time, that he had changed it legally. “Please don’t call me that.” Arc says, trying to mask his irritation. His face is neutral except for the momentary pinch of his brow.

“My bad.” Gavin mutters, making a face. “My shift ends in an hour.”

Arc blinks, unsure of what to do with this information. “Okay.”

Gavin scoffs and rolls his eyes, “You wanna do something?”

“With you?”

“Shit, maybe not if you’re gonna make it this hard.” Gavin says, shaking his head like this whole conversation was a mistake. Sirens blare in Arc’s mind and he’s not even sure why he cares so much but he  _ does _ . Gavin’s mostly irritating but sometimes, whether he’s trying to be or not, he’s also intriguing. This is one of those times.

Arc opens his mouth impulsively, “What’d you have in mind?”

Gavin smiles wide and surprised for a moment before reigning in the expression. He shrugs, his face uncaring once more, “You’ll see.”

 

“Enough with the face, it’s just a car.” Gavin says, throwing empty bottles of gatorade and receipts and a juul pod to the back seats. 

“So you say…” Arc says, eyeing the rusting thing from the safety of library parking lot. He stands under the light of the streetlamp and squeezes the strap of his book bag, trying to shift his nervous energy elsewhere.

But it’s not just a car. It’s where Gavin lived for who knows how long before starting school. The backseat his bed, the trunk his closet. It was an old rattling thing but also, to an extent, Gavin’s home. At the very least it’s the place where he feels safe to fall asleep when he can’t find rest in the dorms.

Gavin pats the passenger’s seat once it’s cleared off, “C’mon.”

Arc climbs in and has to push the seat back to make room for his legs and bookbag. His fingers barely touch the metal of the seatbelt before Gavin is peeling out of the parking lot. Arc glares at him as he buckles himself in. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Gavin says. An almost chuckle rings in his voice. An almost smile works at his lips.

“You’re reckless.”

Gavin shrugs, “Been called worse.”

After that exchange they’re quiet, with only the sound of bad college radio buzzing out of the speakers to fill the silence. The campus scenery fades behind them as Arc to puzzles out where they’re headed. He takes note of each street they turn down and any points of interest that could be their final destination.

He had a strong bet on fast food; Gavin seemed like a classic burgers and shake sort of guy. But as they passed several drive throughs it was seeming less likely. But it was too late to go anywhere else, most places closing up at this hour. Arc wracked his brain for anything else that could possibly be out in this direction. 

Unwilling to keep quiet much longer Arc says, “If you’re kidnapping me you’re doing a poor job of it.”

“It’s not kidnapping if the person gets into the car on their own.”

“I got into the car under the guise that we’d be going somewhere interesting.” Arc bites back.

Gavin laughs and shakes his head, “You’re just bitter because you haven’t figured out where we’re going yet.”

“That’s not true.” Arc says a touch too quickly, giving himself away. He crosses his arms as he studies Gavin’s hands on the wheel and the traffic lights shining on his scarred knuckles. He hopes his burning face isn’t noticeable.

Gavin scoffs, “If you had any idea you would have been a pretentious ass about it by now.”

“I’m the ass?” Arc asks incredulously, lifting his eyebrows. “You’re unbelievable.”

Gavin smiles, toothy and sharp and directly at Arc, “Been called worse.”

Not too long after that Gavin pulls to the side of the road a few yards away from an overpass and cuts the engine. He steps out without another word, leaving Arc with no other choice but to do the same.

Mild anxiety creeps into Arc’s chest. It’s chilly fingers gripping Arc’s heart as he stands idly by the car. He shifts his weight back and forth as he watches Gavin pop open the trunk. What the fuck were they doing out here? It was hitting him all at once how little he knew about Gavin.

“Catch.” Gavin says before throwing  _ something _ at Arc. Arc feels cool metal when he grabs it out of the air; a can of spray paint.

Arc looks at the cement columns and supports of the overpass and sees the layers and layers of graffiti. “You dragged me out of the library to vandalize property.”

“I didn’t drag you out of the library, and even if I had you should be grateful.” Gavin says, grabbing a can for himself.

“For?”

Gavin closes the trunk and smirks, “Me, single handedly pulling that stick out of your ass. C’mon, try to have some fun for once,  _ R. _ ” Gavin nudges him with his elbow as he passes him.

  1. His name reduced to one consonant. One syllable. He didn’t love it. He didn’t hate it either. And he wonders, maybe childishly, if a nickname is a sign of friendship.



After several minutes of goading, Arc follows Gavin. Stepping over gravel and garbage and glass. The can of spray paint in his hand rattling and light. The moon above them peaking through the clouds every now and then to watch over the boys as they leave temporary marks on the world.

Or on the overpass, at the very least.

Gavin, no surprise, seems to have done this before. More than that, he has a talent for it despite his limited access to materials. Arc watches as bright red dances and splatters against concrete. Gavin makes big, swooping marks with his arm as he writes out his message;  _ “Still Here” _ .

Arc, a few feet over, holds his can like it’s a live grenade ready to go off in a puff of yellow. He clenches his jaw and and tries to focus on the sounds of Gavin’s aerosol can and the crickets in the not too distant fields and really anything other than Hank’s  _ disappointed father voice _ in his head saying he shouldn’t do this.

He doesn’t listen to it. He presses down lightly as a spritz of yellow comes out and hits the wall, speckling over someone else’s work. But then he pressed down harder and paints a simple house; a square with a triangle roof and a smoke stack.

It’s crudely done, especially compared to Gavin’s deft lettering, but it’s there. Gavin stares at their handiwork, quirks a brow at Arc’s simple home, but says nothing. Instead he jerks his head in the direction of the car and Arc follows silently but smiling.

 

Gavin calls him R, from that point out. Not that he has much opportunity to use the new nickname; they still do not talk very often. No, that would be too easy, that would help Arc figure out where they stand. They can go entire days without so much as looking at one another.

But then, more and more frequently it would seem, there are times when all the tension and possible rivalry falls away. There are times when, whether they’d like to admit it or not, they needed each other.

It’s pouring rain and cold and miserable as Arc rushes to his dorm from his study session with Chloe. Wind tugs at his umbrella as he tugs his coat around himself, tighter. He cuts through the parking lot, careful to avoid larger puddles, when he spots Gavin rifling through his car. Arc comes to a halt, tipping his head inquisitively as he watches Gavin climb from the back seat up to the driver’s side, his clothes clinging to him and his hair hanging damp in front of his eyes.

Arc, too curious for his own good, approaches the car and knocks on the window. Gavin’s grey eyes flash up at him.

“ _ What _ are you doing?” Arc asks loudly, competing with the rain, as Gavin shuffles out of the driver’s seat.

“Lost my keys to the dorm.” Gavin grits out, shivering as rain pelts him. 

Arc steps closer, holding his umbrella over both of them, “You’re soaked. You could have just called an RA, they would have let you in.” 

Gavin rolls his eyes, “It’s thirty bucks for a new key since they have to rekey the door or whatever. Thirty bucks I don’t have. I was retracing my steps when this shit started picking up.” Gavin says, gesturing to the dark clouds. He crosses his arms over himself, over his wet henley. “Figured I’d search my car while waiting for it to pass.” 

Gavin’s muscles tense, in an attempt to stop shaking. Arc’s hands almost move on their own accord, to reach out and stroke Gavin’s sides to warm him up. But they don’t - one hand continues holding the umbrella over them and the other finds its way into his coat pocket.

“Let’s get inside. We’ll find your key later.” Arc says and Gavin doesn’t argue.

Arc’s umbrella barely covers the two of them as they dash for the entry door of the residence hall. Shoulders and cold hands brush as they hurry. After a moment of fiddling with Arc’s key they are both inside and up the stairs in an instant. Arc unlocks the door to their dorm room and the two rush in.

“You should take a warm shower.” Arc says, dropping his umbrella by the door to dry off. “You’re probably freezing.”

Gavin looks so pale as he peeled off his long sleeved shirt, the material of it completely soaked. He flings it toward the tile floor of the bathroom, where it drops with a wet plop. Despite the clouds there was enough daylight for Arc to see rivulets run down Gavin’s back as he did so, and with that, he could see healed scars.

Arc casts his eyes away as he slips off his coat and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door.

“R,” Gavin says, pausing by the bathroom door. Arc hums in response but doesn’t look at Gavin again. “Thanks for, uh, y’know...helping, or whatever.” The words sound foreign coming from him, but genuine all the same.

Later, when Gavin is on his bed writing a paper and buried under ratty blankets, Arc slips out and heads for the resident life office.

He pulls a twenty and a ten out of his wallet, “I seem to have lost my key.”

 

“ _ Can you talk to Hank?”  _ Connor whines over the phone as Arc sits on a bench outside the library. “ _ Please?” _

“About?” Arc asks, fiddling with his scarf. There’s a thread dangling and he can’t tell if it's the kind that he could pull and pull until the whole scarf unravels. 

“ _ He hasn’t let me go anywhere other than home and school for days-” _

“That tends to happen you  _ ditch class to meet an actual psycho _ .” Arc says because while he loves his brother he’s not sure if he can ever let that go. But he says it with a half laugh because he knows if he doesn’t Connor will take it personally.

“ _ So I’m just supposed to stop having a social life because I was curious about what our mom is like? Isn’t that a little unfair?”  _ Connor huffs in a very  _ sixteen year old  _ way.

Too late, he’s already taken it personally. Arc stays quiet as he lets the argument wash over him. The fact that his incredibly bright brother can be so naive to think that wanting to see their mother is an innocent thing.

“ _ I just want to go to the Halloween dance, okay? Can’t you talk to him for me?”  _ He pleads, “ _ He’ll listen to you.” _

Arc sighs and yanks the loose thread - it’s not the kind that breaks easy. It is the kind that runs for several inches and shows no sign of stopping. “I’m not promising anything...but I will call him later.”

He can practically hear Connor beaming.

 

Arc arrives to the halfway point of convincing Hank to let Connor go to the dance. He can tell this because Hank pauses consider Arc’s argument and makes some noncommittal noises that are actually just the opposite. Arc swivels in his swivel chair at his desk, twirling a pen in his hand as he does so.

“He’s never made a mistake like this before, I highly doubt he will do so again. And he won’t stop texting me until I’ve made a case for him so I’d appreciate it if you’d let him go.” Arc chuckles.

Hank laughs, “You sure you’re studying criminal justice? Sounds a little pre-law to me.”

Arc doesn’t have time to form a witty retort because Gavin is barging into the room, scowling like he did the first day they met. He has his new key in hand, outstretched from him like it’s damning evidence or a cursed object. Like he can’t let it be too close to him.

Arc is stunned when Gavin throws it at him, the key striking against his cheek. It’s hard and stinging. Arc hisses, “What the fuck?” He drops the pen in his hand to feel his face. His fingertips come away with the smallest streak of blood.

_ “You okay, kid? _ ” Hank asks,  _ cop on duty _ voice in full effect. But there’s a slight  _ anxious parent _ edge to it as well. Authoritarian and, maybe, afraid.

Gavin hauls Arc up by his shirt collar - it would be funny, given how much height Arc has on Gavin, if it wasn’t actually making Gavin angrier. “I don’t need you to bail me out.”

_ “What is going on? _ ” Hank’s voice comes from the phone dangling in Arc’s hand. Arc knows that Gavin can hear it because for a split second his metallic grey eyes flash to the phone. Anyone else would stand down, would have some kind of shame or guilt holding them back.

Gavin, obviously, does not.

Gavin shoves Arc hard against his desk, so much that Arc drops his phone. When his lower back hits the edge of the desk, the desk hits the wall and the whole room shakes.

“I was being  _ helpful _ . A simple  _ thank you _ would suffice.” Arc says, his tone grows darker with each word. Despite this, despite all the effort he puts into hardening his face and embittering his voice, his stomach still flips. His palms clam up and he can feel the tips of his ears burning. He puffs his chest out but he feels small. Weak. Unwanted.

“I don’t need your fuckin’ help!”

Arc takes a step forward. “Apparently you do,” he takes another, standing toe to toe with Gavin once more, “seeing as how you can’t manage a simple key without losing it.” He looms over his roommate like a dark and angry storm.

_ “If you two don’t calm the fuck down- _ ” Hank’s voice 

“Oh, what are you going to do, old man?” Gavin sneers, “He’s not even your  _ real _ son - you don’t have to pretend like you give a shit about him.”

Arc charges Gavin, tackling him and swiping the edge of the bed before they both fall to the floor. He lands one solid punch to Gavin’s gut that has him wheezing and spitting. It doesn’t matter, Arc’s never felt so angry and relieved at the same time.

Gavin rolls them somehow and punches Arc squarely in the jaw. Everything gets cloudy for a minute. His hands are heavy as he lifts them to defend himself from any more swings.

“Stop.” Arc whines, catching Gavins wrists in his hands, “Please.”

Gavin lets out a shaky breath, still straddling Arc’s stomach. His lips part like he might say something when they’re interrupted by loud, panicked knocking at the door.

 

An old friend of Hank’s, someone he went to the academy with, is now the sergeant of the police department in this college town. Hank had called him and then the residence hall as soon as the first punch had been thrown.

That’s the reason Arc finds himself holding an ice pack to his face at a table with Sergeant Fisher (Hank’s friend), Mrs. Lewis (the residence hall director), Gavin Reed (asshole) and Hank Anderson (extremely disappointed father). 

Gavin had no parent or guardian to contact.

They put Gavin and Arc in separate parts of the station, collected their stories three different times before all joining in one room. Gavin and Arc didn’t so much as  _ breathe _ in the other’s direction, let alone look.

There’s a long, painful talking to about how this kind of behavior is unacceptable. How these boys should know better, with individualized parts - Arc is told he should know better because his whole life he’s been nothing but a model student and model citizen. Straight A’s and community service and the utmost praise from every authority figure in his life. Gavin should know better because he’s already on thin ice. There’s nobody there at bat for him. He barely scraped by in high school, got his record sealed at one point and should be holding onto his scholarship for his dear life. 

“Honestly, I’m shocked - two young men studying criminal justice should be aware of how life altering something like this can be. This isn’t a  _ boys will be boys _ world anymore.” Sergeant Fisher says.

Arc’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. He had never asked what his roommate was majoring in but he certainly never thought they were studying the same thing.

Mrs. Lewis says, “Gavin, your scholarship is dependent on good behavior. An altercation is bad enough on its own, but if Arc chooses to press charges you’d-

“I’m not pressing charges,” Arc is shocked to find himself saying anything at all, especially anything in defense of Gavin, “I don’t think it’s fair to punish Gavin when I started the fight.”

Not entirely true, and everyone at the table knows it. Gavin started the fight the moment he stormed into the room and flung a key at Arc’s face. Arc just happened to be the one to throw the first punch. 

And yet, no one objects. All eyes, including Gavin’s, turn to Arc in that way he hates but he tries not to show it. He sits up straighter and lowers the ice pack for a moment, “We’re not good roommates. We’re polar opposites most of the time and we argue a lot-” Arc has to stop himself before he gets too derailed, “but that doesn’t mean we should have our educations  _ ripped _ from us. It just means we should stop living together.”

The adults all share a look amongst each other.

Arc continues, “It was a fight that got out of hand. If we didn’t live together it stands to reason that there would be no more problems.”

“Do you agree with this Gavin?” Sergeant Fisher asks.

Gavin grinds his teeth. Arc half expects a smartass response, something mean and biting. He sees how much Gavin wants to say something stupid and impulsive. But instead Gavin simply says, “Yes.”

  
  


“Why’d you do that?” Hank asks at the first red light after leaving the station. It’s much darker out now than it was when they first arrived. Arc stares out at the sky so he doesn’t have to see Hank’s face. 

“He got under my skin and I snapped.” Arc says, embarrassed by how true it was. Losing control wasn’t really something he was used to. 

“No, I mean, why did you defend him? Mrs. Lewis was ready to call the dean and get Gavin’s ass booted. Why’d you jump in?”

Arc’s face burns so he leans his head against the cool window. He wants to say he doesn’t know but he’s lived with Hank long enough to realize that won’t suffice. It would also be a lie. He does know.

“Punishment doesn’t always correct behavior.” It’s probably a weird thing to say to a detective but Hank doesn’t immediately disagree, so it’s fine. “And I didn’t want it on my record.”

The light’s green, probably turned green several seconds ago, but they both had just now realized it. Hank presses the pedal as he says, “Fair enough.”

 

Hank, Mrs. Lewis and an additional RA are all present as Gavin packs his side of the room. Arc is sitting in Chloe and Kara’s room fighting back the urge to cry. His eyes sting and he’s not sure if it’s hurt or anger. Sadness or frustration. Regardless, it doesn’t feel good. Kara makes him tea and Chloe rubs his back. They don’t prod him with too many questions and for that, he’s most thankful.

When Hank texts him that it’s all clear Chloe and Kara walk him back to his dorm, each girl on either side of him. A weak smile tugs at his lips at the thought of two five foot girls escorting him like he’s the one who needs protections - which, he is in this case, but still. It’s funny.

“Hi, Mr. Anderson.” Chloe greets, introducing herself when she sees Hank, “I’m Chloe.” Kara follows suit. It’s the first time in a  _ long _ time that Arc’s had friends to introduce to him. 

“Thanks for taking care of this one,” Hank nods in Arc’s direction, “Give me a heads up if he gets another asshole roommate.”

They all laugh but Arc can only bring himself to smile briefly. His face still hurts and his heart does too, but he’s not quite sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who graduated college *points at self obnoxiously*
> 
> Guess who thought this was just going to be a two chaptered story but keeps drawing it out so now its three chapters *points at self obnoxiously again*
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think of the story so far!!


End file.
